


Trophy Wife

by Geonn



Category: Original Work
Genre: Adultery, Casual Sex, Erotica, F/F, Infidelity, Masturbation, Older Woman/Younger Woman, Oral Sex, Porn With Plot, Sexual Fantasy, Shower Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-19
Updated: 2013-12-19
Packaged: 2018-01-05 03:06:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,606
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1088867
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Geonn/pseuds/Geonn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A tennis instructor takes on a bored housewife as her latest client.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Trophy Wife

On the surface Regan was the epitome of the moniker. Statuesque, blonde, blue eyes. She was absolutely gorgeous without the help of cosmetic surgery; a jaw just slightly too wide, a nose just a bit too long, but she hadn’t done anything to mutilate her natural beauty. Her breasts were small, natural, not the overinflated silicone monstrosities most women of her ilk were saddled with. She was just shy of thirty, and from up close I could tell what she would look like when she was older. It was all there around her eyes, in the set of her mouth, and I knew she would become an elegant grande dame. When she spoke she came across as intelligent, shy, and a little embarrassed at the trappings of her wealth.

I met her in the usual way: I was hired to teach her tennis. Normally I instructed children or teenagers, but due to my proximity to the elite side of town I was often called upon to visit private courts and instruct the intricacies of the game to bored housewives. Regan was married to Evan Cabot and lived in one of the “castles on a hill” in Queen Anne. The slope on which the neighborhood had been built gave every street an unusual tilt and I always fought the urge to turn my head sideways to make things look proper again. The Cabot house was on its own little lot hidden behind an ivy-strangled fence. I buzzed and announced myself - “Theresa Moran, from Racqueteering Fine” - and drove up to park under the porte-cochere.

Regan Cabot came outside to greet me already dressed in her gear: a white polo shirt under a pale-green sweater vest, and a ruffled white skirt that showed off her long, toned legs. Her hair was pulled back in a ponytail and she smiled when I got out of the car. I never knew what to expect with new clients. Some received me like a plumber or hired help, while others treated me like an old friend. Regan was somewhere in the middle, friendly and welcoming but reserved enough that I didn’t feel overwhelmed by her energy. We introduced ourselves and she told me to follow her around back.

She’d told me over the phone that they had a private tennis court at the house, but I didn’t believe it until she led me through the gate and I saw she had been telling the truth. The back yard extended all the way into the next lot, which Regan explained her husband had purchased when the owners moved out. I held back my judgment that he would purchase property, tear down a house, and build a tennis court when there were public courts not ten minutes away from his front door. But to each his own, and who was I to say where he should spend his money?

“Can I ask you a dumb question?” 

I said, “There’s no such thing as a dumb question at your first lesson.”

She looked skeptical and kicked up her leg to point at the back of her pompom sock. “Why do these socks have rabbit tails on them?”

I couldn’t help but laugh. “They keep the sock from slipping down into your shoe.”

“Oh! Okay. That makes sense. I think I’ll still call them rabbit tails, though.”

“Fair enough,” I said. 

That broke the ice between us. I relaxed and allowed myself to be a bit more casual in our lessons, and Regan seemed confident that I wasn’t a drill instructor who would jump down her throat for every mistake she made. Our first lesson went so well that she scheduled our second before we even finished. I gathered my things as she zipped her racquet back into its case, trying to ignore the sweat on her upper arms. She had incredibly toned arms and legs, and I found myself asking about her muscle tone before I could stop myself.

“Cross-country cycling,” she said. “Evan is worried I’m going to hurtle headfirst down a mountain and crack my skull, so I figured I’d try a less dangerous pastime to appease him.”

“So you’re going to quit riding because he asked you to?”

“Oh, never. But having a safer hobby will get him off my back for a little while.”

I smiled and told her I’d be back on Thursday for our second lesson. She thanked me for my time and walked me back around to where I’d left the car. She offered to let me come inside to take a shower before I left, but while I appreciated the offer I didn’t want to clean off just to get back into my sweaty clothes. 

Once I was safely behind the wheel she turned to go back into the house, her skirt flipping up with the motion of her body. It didn’t rise high enough to reveal anything, but it moved around her hips like a promise of how easily it could be removed. I wasn’t above fantasizing about my clients, but that was usually as far as I took it. In Regan’s case she was just so cute, so blonde, so... young. She would never look twice at someone on this side of forty, a whole decade of ages between us. Still, a little make-believe couldn’t hurt. If she kept up those short skirts, I knew I’d have more than enough fantasy material to get me through a few sleepless nights.

At our next lesson she had a pitcher of lemonade waiting on the back porch. “I didn’t anticipate how much of a sweat we’d work up. I thanked her and poured myself a glass. When she took a drink I hesitated with the glass against my bottom lip, eyeing her without the risk of being seen as she took her drink. She was wearing the skirt again today, but this time she’d gone with a sleeveless white blouse. Her arms were deceptively well-muscled, and I felt a thrill as she put down her glass and stretched both arms out in front of her.

“I need to stretch a little more before these lessons,” she said. “I was so sore after last time I had to get a massage.”

I tried not to envision that. “Oh. Well, if you need to stretch, by all means...”

“No, I did a bunch this morning. I’m limber and ready to go.”

 _Oh, darling, you need to be careful of yourself..._ I watched her walk away, took a drink to combat my suddenly-dry mouth, and followed her out onto the court. We worked on her backhand, which she seemed to have trouble figuring out. With other clients I might have stepped up close, covered her hand with mine, and guided her follow-through. At the moment I didn’t trust myself to have such an intimate proximity, so I demonstrated from a safe distance and demonstrated the proper posture. The sleeveless blouse gave me a great view of her upper arms as she slowly went through the motions, rocking her weight from the arch of one foot to the ball of the other. 

“Still wearing the bunny-tail socks, I see.”

She smiled and winked at me. When the lesson was over, I let her lead me back to the front of the house. We had decided on twice-weekly lessons, Tuesday and Thursday, and I told her I would see her then.

“I’ll keep working on that backhand.”

“See that you do. You’re a fast learner. It won’t be long before you’re actually playing instead of just going through the motions.”

“I may have to just go through the motions for a while anyway. None of Evan’s wives friends play.”

“What about your friends?”

“I don’t really have many of those, either.”

I knew the feeling, but I didn’t want to come off as pitying her or myself. “You’re telling me your husband went to all this trouble to build a tennis court in the backyard when he doesn’t even know anyone who plays?”

Regan laughed and nodded. “He asked me about what other hobbies I had, and I just sort of threw it out there.” She waved her hand dismissively. “Something like, ‘oh, one of these days I might take up tennis’ or something like that. Next thing I knew, a few months later we had a tennis court in the backyard. That’s what Evan does. He, ah, takes the initiative.”

I nodded. “I’ve known a few men like that.”

She smiled. “Well. Thanks again, Theresa.”

“My pleasure. You’re a great student. And...” I questioned what I was about to say even before I said it, but I couldn’t leave that ‘and’ hanging. “If you ever want to play a game. I mean, I love tennis, but it seems like I only get to play it when I’m teaching.”

She crossed her arms and tilted her head to the side. “Hm. But then you could just teach me poorly so you’d be certain to win.”

“You think I’d need to cheat to win?”

“I wouldn’t put it past you.”

I couldn’t help but smiling. I held up two fingers. “Okay. I promise I will teach you to the best of my ability. Scout’s honor.”

“Were you ever a girl scout?”

“No.”

“Fine. I’ll hold you to the promise anyway.”

I winked and said goodbye to her as I got into the car. She waved and put her hands on her hips as she walked back to the house. As I drove away I thought about her outfits. It was summer and the days would only get hotter. That meant she was likely to expose more skin, which would give me much more surface area to ogle. I needed to find a way to distract me so I didn’t venture into the leering category. I made up my mind that I would get any prurience out of my system before I saw her so I could be completely professional the next time I saw her.

The next Monday night I called Courtney to see if she was up for a little recreational exercise. She was between relationships at the moment so she came over. I provided the wine, and she provided the distraction I needed. It didn’t hurt that she was also tall and blonde, and I allowed myself the briefest of fantasies during the proceedings. Courtney had tattoos that kept me firmly settled in reality, but when she kissed me goodbye and left me limp on the bed with my hair tousled and my body sore, I knew I would be able to make it through my next lesson with Regan without crossing any boundaries.

Over the weeks Regan continued to improve. We’d been working together almost two months on the morning I arrived under a blanket of storm clouds. Regan was outside looking up at the sky when I got out of the car, and she turned to look at me with her eyebrows raised. I’d availed myself of Courtney’s services a handful of times since I realized she made a good Regan substitute, but I was still left a-tingle by the real thing every time we were together.

“What do you think, Theresa?”

I shrugged. “We can reschedule the lesson if you want.”

“It’s been threatening all day,” she said. “Would you mind sticking around to see if it clears up? I’ll make you something to drink while we play chicken with it.”

“Sounds good to me.” 

She led me into the house, which seemed bright and alien compared to the dreary world outside. She led me past the stairs to the kitchen, which I had seen on a handful of occasions since it faced the backyard. Regan’s skimpy outfit seemed even more revealing indoors somehow and I tried to ignore the effect by focusing on the décor. There were many framed photos on the wall, Regan and Evan at random events, smiling and sparkling for the cameras like they expected to grace the cover of a magazine. I had never actually met Evan Cabot, and I took the time to examine him in the picture that showed him the clearest. He appeared older than me (proof that Regan didn’t care about an age difference, I thought even as I told myself to shut up), with receding gray hair and a wide smile. He was barrel-chested like an old-time football player, and in every photo he had one arm possessively curled around Regan’s waist.

It was interesting to see Regan in evening clothes, since I was so accustomed to seeing her in the little frilly tennis outfit. I had been so engrossed by her legs that I hardly noticed I’d never seen her in anything low-cut. She may not have been as well-endowed as some of her fellow trophy wives, but she knew how to flaunt what she had. I finally joined her in the kitchen just as she was placing a glass of water on the counter for me.

“I thought you’d gotten lost.”

“Just admiring your beautiful home,” I said.

She smiled. “Thank you. It’s really Evan’s beautiful home, but he lets me pretty things up. It’s like having a life-sized dollhouse with a bottomless piggy bank.” She had a glass of tea and brought it to her lips as she turned to look out the back door. She paused just before she took a drink. “Oh, no!”

I followed her gaze and saw fat raindrops splattering against the glass. In the second after we noticed the storm the house was hit by a wall of water. It was as if the city had been pushed underneath a waterfall that was now pelting us with the full-strength of its force, immediately blotting out the view and rendering us almost blind.

Regan sighed. “Well, damn. I guess we’d gotten lucky having as many sunny days as we did. But I suppose this means today’s lesson is off. You’ll still get paid, of course.”

“Well, it doesn’t have to be a complete loss. There are a few indoor courts nearby we could investigate if you want to salvage the lesson.”

“I don’t know. I could come up with a lot of excuses, but it boils down to not really wanting to do that. I would feel self-conscious playing in front of other people.”

“I understand that. And if I’m not going to do my job, I’m certainly not going to charge you for the time.”

“Hardly a way to run a business, Theresa.”

I shrugged. “I wouldn’t do it for just any client. We’ll just hold off until Thursday.”

“Thank you. That’s very sweet of you.” She gestured at my glass. “You can at least finish your water before you head out.”

I settled on the stool and she finally took a drink of her tea. We chatted a little about my work, about past experiences with lessons being rained out. Working in Seattle, it was a risk I had to take. I wasn’t lying when I said I wouldn’t have waived the fee for any other client. Rain was a known risk to our clients, and if they insisted on lessons taking place on outdoor courts we required at least twelve hours cancellation notice. Weather reports were accurate enough to make that possible, so I didn’t feel too bad when I had to charge for a lesson I’d never given. 

“And if we have notice,” I explained, “I can reschedule that time for someone who doesn’t mind using an indoor court. Otherwise I’m left sitting around with nothing to do.”

Regan started to respond when there was a snap and the kitchen went dark. “Oh, hell, what now.” She muttered a curse as she went to the back door. “Neighbors are out, too. This happens every time there’s a big storm. Great.”

I got up and joined her at the door. The neighborhood seemed unsettlingly dark. “Well, maybe Evan’s office lost power as well and it’ll bring him home earlier.”

“Evan works at Microsoft. Trust me, he’s not in the dark right now.”

“Oh.” I hated the idea of leaving, but offering to stay with her seemed forward. “Well. If you don’t want to find an indoor tennis court, there’s no reason for you to stay cooped up in the house all by yourself. Want to go grab some lunch with me? We can even hit the mall. Walk around, build up those glutes so you can bound around the court like a whirlwind.”

She looked at me, arms crossed over her chest, and then turned to face me fully. I looked at her and before I could question the odd look in her eye, she had stepped forward. Her arms unfolded and she grabbed me, one hand on the back of my head and the other snaking around my waist. She smashed my body against hers, her wide-mouthed gasp turning into a kiss that I had no choice but to accept. She had taken away my opportunity to say no, but I was glad for it. If she’d left it up to me I would have said we couldn’t, we shouldn’t, and I’d have regretted it the rest of the day.

She was a client, and she was married, and everything in me demanded the high road. I had to be strong and moral because... because... Well, hell, I know there were reasons. But if I opened my mouth to voice them she would just slide her tongue in and silence me.

So I opened my mouth to voice my concerns and she proved me right. I moaned instead. I swear it would have been enunciated as, “I’m very flattered, Regan, and you’re a very beautiful woman, but for a myriad of reasons I can’t go into right now, this should not happen, so I’ll just thank you for the water and be on my way.” I don’t think it translated well to muffled moaning.

Regan finally pulled back and I really looked at her for the first time. Before I had always held back, kept a professional distance so I wouldn’t be tempted by the dimple in her chin or the fullness of her bottom lip. The kiss freed me to notice everything I’d forced myself to ignore, like the way her bangs would get caught in her eyelashes or the flecks of green in her eyes. I cupped her face just as she said, “Is...” and I kissed her back. I turned her, pressed her against the kitchen island, and I moved my hands into her hair. It was still pulled back as it always was for our lessons, and I yanked the tie free so it would fall loose. I’d never seen her with her hair down, not even in the pictures, and I was eager for that new view of her. 

We stopped trying to speak between kisses; it was far more important to catch breaths at those moments. Her hips were pressed against the island and I realized I had her pushed back in a position that had to be uncomfortable. I pulled her back upright and tried to catch her lips, the difference in our height meant that I closed my lips around her chin instead. I laughed nervously as she guided my head into the right trajectory and we kissed again, tongues twisting as I braced my feet on the tile floor. I stretched my body against hers and she brought one leg up between my thighs.

I dragged my hand through her hair down her body, finally closing my hand around her small breast as she pushed her leg against my sex. I heard her growl just before she rolled her head back and I finally took a second to look at her. Set free from its tie, her hair had fallen in dandelion waves across her right eye, and I pushed it back so I could see her face. She turned her head to kiss the inside of my wrist and it sent a shudder down my arm into my body.

“I’ve never even been with a woman,” she gasped, closing her eyes as she sagged forward.

“You seem to be winging it pretty well.”

She wet her lips and opened her eyes to look at me, and I waited to see what was going to happen next. I knew what I wanted to happen, despite my earlier misgivings, despite the fact I saw her wedding ring glisten when she tucked her hair behind her ear, but I wanted to leave it entirely up to her. She touched my cheek and ran her thumb over my bottom lip. 

“Come upstairs with me.”

I stepped away from her and took her hand when it fell away from my face. I linked our fingers and she led me out of the kitchen, through the hall with the framed photos of her husband, and took me upstairs. She was leading me so I was gifted with an unprecedented view up her skirt, ogling the long lines of her legs and knowing I was about to be given the opportunity to explore them fully. She took me into the guest bedroom and I didn’t question it. Even if someone was up for a little innocent adultery, doing it in the marriage bed was probably a step too far.

She hit the lights out of habit, though the room stayed dark, and I pulled her to me again. We kissed, and she clung to me as she backed us up to the bed. I sat her down and ran my hands down her arms before I stood up. She swallowed at least three times as I undid the buttons on my blouse, smoothing her hands over the blankets as I took it off and stood in front of her in my bra. She smiled nervously, exhaled in a short ‘huff’ of air, and blinked rapidly. I bent down and lightly kissed her lips and pushed her legs apart to give me room to kneel before her.

“If you want me to stop--”

“No!”

I grinned. “If you want me to stop at any point, just say so.” I put my hands on the thighs I had gawped at so many times and she tensed. I rubbed the muscles with my fingertips until they relaxed, then pushed my hands up underneath the teasing ruffled skirt. I watched her face as I hooked my fingers in her panties and she lifted herself up so I could pull them down. I lowered my head to kiss the inside of her thigh and she put her hands on top of my head. She shifted on the mattress and I moved my hands under her legs.

“You can move me around if you need to.”

“You’re perfect,” I said, and then I pushed her skirt up. I was trembling a little, amazed I was actually in this moment, and I popped my thumb into my mouth to get it wet. I rubbed the backs of my fingers over her pubic hair and pressed the pad of my thumb against her folds. She sucked in a breath through her teeth and I focused on the task at hand. I didn’t let myself think about who she was or that I was checking two items off my fantasy bucket list in one fell swoop (“straight woman” and “Regan in her tennis outfit”). I just had to do what came naturally, and make her come... naturally.

Regan rested her legs on my shoulders and I felt the pompoms of her socks, the little rabbit tails, against my back. I used my tongue and fingers on her and looked up when she began rocking side to side. I thought she might have been in the throes of some moral dilemma but she was just squirming out of her top. I lifted my head as soon as her bra was off and closed my lips around the small pink nipples, sucking hard as I pushed two fingers into her. She pulled me closer with her legs, wheezing as she met me thrust for thrust. My thumb found her clit and that was the end of her. She went rigid and then fell back, leaving her hand on the back of my head so she would pull me with her.

Afterward I lay on top of her, still wearing my bra and pants, listening to her breathe. “He’s having an affair.”

I looked up at her.

“I’m the window dressing. I make him look good, like a family man, and he gets to have his fun on the side.” She looked down at me. “I didn’t want you to think I was an adulteress. I guess I would prefer if you know I’m just a whore who married someone she didn’t love for financial security.”

“People have done worse for less,” I said.

She smiled. “That doesn’t exactly make me feel better.”

“How about this?” I shifted my weight so that I was lying between her legs. I braced my hands on either side of her, flattening them on the mattress as I began to thrust against her. She gripped my arms, fingers digging into my biceps as I moved against her. I held her gaze, staring into those beautiful blue-green (teal, I’ll call them teal) eyes. I bent down and kissed her as she came a second time. She moved her hands down my back to cup my ass and pull me tighter against her. She closed her eyes and let me kiss the lids, and I tasted salty tears against my lips.

“Hey. You okay?”

She nodded. “I’m fine. I’m very fine.” She smiled and kissed my chin. “I’m just a little dumbfounded, that’s all. I can’t believe we just did that.”

I smiled. “It’s a little unreal to me, too.” She squirmed underneath me. “Am I hurting you?”

“No.” She tightened her hands on my ass. “I just wanted to find the most comfortable position. I want to stay here for a while. I may sleep. Is that okay?”

“Very okay.”

She dozed off, and I carefully extricated myself. It was obvious she’d taken a huge step, so I didn’t want to risk pushing her too far by pointing out I hadn’t gotten off. I waited to make sure she was asleep before I reached down and unfastened my pants. I slipped a hand inside, bit off a moan as I pressed two fingers against the crotch of my underwear, and watched her as I began to stroke. I tried to memorize every curve of her body: the spray of freckles across her breasts, the tiny pink nipples, the dimple of a piercing just above her navel. All the nights I’d dreamt of lifting her little skirt to find her naked underneath, now I could live the dream. I raised the ruffled edge and revealed her mound, still wet from her orgasms, and I moved my fingers faster. 

Her eyelids flickered as I came, even though I tried to stay as quiet as possible. When I was finished I settled against the pillows and stared at her, watching her sleep. I realized I was smiling and reached out to rest my hand on her stomach. I’m not sure how long I stayed like that before I fell asleep, because I was woken by the lights suddenly coming on. 

I had the momentary panic attack of someone being caught in the bed of a married woman, and I think Regan had the same terror because she shot up and crossed her arms over her chest. Her hair whipped around her head as she searched for the person who had disturbed us, but we quickly realized it was just the power coming back on. She sagged back against the headboard with a relieved sigh, looked at me through her mussed hair, and smiled.

“Hi.”

“Hey.”

“What time is it?”

I looked at my phone and saw I’d missed four messages. “Shit. I had another appointment this afternoon. And they were calling to cancel. Thank God.” I pushed my hair out of my face and looked at her. I was about to suggest another round, maybe just so I could selfishly have a chance to be on the receiving end, but she spoke first.

“You probably have to go.”

Right. Who knew when her husband would be back? I leaned in and kissed her goodbye. We sat on opposite sides of the bed to dress.

She softly said, “I hope this wasn’t an isolated incident.”

“No. Definitely not.” I smiled. “Although I may have to rethink charging you for the lessons where this happens.”

Regan chuckled. “That seems fair.”

We finished dressing and she walked me downstairs. She took my arm and pulled me to her. I smiled just before our lips touched, her tongue teasing against my lips. I reached down and grabbed her ass, making her squeak into the kiss. I smiled and said, “I’ve wanted to do that since the morning we met. Is that all right?”

She smiled, a bit nervously, and said, “You can only grab it if you smack it once in a while.”

“Oh?” I swatted her and she stiffened in my arms, gasping with eyes wide as she pressed against me. “You like that, huh?”

She curled her fingers in my collar and smiled fiendishly. “Every now and again.” She kissed me again before she peeled away. “Thank you.”

It felt odd to reply with “you’re welcome,” so I just nodded and forced myself to let go of her. The storm was still tapering off so the air was cool and smelled of ozone. I drove out from beneath the porte-cochere and the back window was so quickly obscured by the drizzle that I didn’t have a chance to look back and see if Regan was watching me. My mind was reeling, not just because of what happened but because of all my own personal rules I had broken to let it happen. I had slept with a married woman. She could have let me off the hook in the middle of everything. “Oh, by the way, this is totally fine because he screws around on me every chance he gets, really, this is fine.” 

No easy way out. I had to accept the fact I’d... well, I hadn’t cheated. I had made it possible for someone else to cheat. That was pretty much the same thing as actually committing adultery, right? I’m an accessory to the crime. But I couldn’t shift the blame of my other sin: I had long ago sworn I’d never get involved with a client. Fantasy was one thing, but acting on it was beyond the pale. I chastised myself the entire way home and continued the dressing-down as I ascended to my apartment. Once there behind the safety of my door, I went into the bedroom and undressed. I changed into comfortable jeans and a long-sleeved shirt, buttoning it as I went out onto the balcony to watch the rain. Looking out over the city I put aside morality and justification and the lines I had crossed and focused on the reality of the moment. 

I fucked Regan Cabot. In her tennis outfit. During a blackout. It was like sexual fantasy bucket list meets some raunchy version of Clue. 

I decided I wasn’t going to beat myself up over it. Regan was a big girl, and she knew what she was doing. I hadn’t seduced her, as much as I might have thought about it, and the decision had been hers. I would let her worry about the guilt and self-recriminations.

The next time I showed up for a lesson, I was prepared for any eventuality. She could pretend it had never happened, she could beg me to never say anything, or she could tell me to leave the racquet in the car and drag me back upstairs to do what she’d neglected to do the first time. I was obviously rooting for one more than the others, but I felt equally prepared for any eventuality. Once again she was waiting at the front door when I arrived, this time in a one-piece shift dress. She had her hands behind her back and smiled when I got out of the car.

“Looks like a much nicer day today.”

“Looks like,” I said. “But the rain had its perks.”

She smiled brightly. “It certainly did. So, shall we...?”

We went through the normal lesson, and I had resigned myself to business as usual when the time was finally up. As I gathered my things Regan approached me from behind and slid her hand over the seat of my pants. “Do you have anywhere to be for the next hour or so?”

Shamefully, I had left the entire afternoon free just in case I got tied up at the Cabot house. I stood up and turned to face her. “Nothing I can’t miss. Why? What did you have in mind?”

“I was thinking you always get so sweaty during these lessons. The least I could do is offer you my shower.”

We went inside and undressed in the master bathroom, and then she took me into the shower. I embraced her from behind, whispering in her ear as I moved my hand between her legs and got her off. I hinted about what she could do with the detachable showerhead as a thank-you, but she sidestepped the offer by asking to see how I masturbate. Hell, I can get onboard with that kink. So I got off while she watched, leaning against the tile wall, shower water trickling down her chest. Afterward we kissed again and I understood it was time for me to go.

I’m not an idiot. I was concerned after the first time, but the second time was enough to convince me that Regan had no intention of returning the favor. That was fine. I’d been with pillow princesses before and she was worth a little frustration. Once I realized she wasn’t going to take care of me I decided to make a game out of getting myself off. The next time we were together I molested a pillow in her guest bedroom before I gave her what she wanted. By the time I knelt next to the bed she was practically screaming with need.

Soon we were spending more time in the bedroom than on the court. I stopped charging her entirely for the lessons since I wasn’t fulfilling my part of the bargain. If she had kept paying me I’d have felt a little too much like a whore. I kept bringing the tennis equipment to keep up appearances, and I found new and inventive uses for the racquet handle. There were a few times when her hand nearly strayed between my legs, and I held my breath with anticipation each time she strayed a little closer, but she never crossed the line.

After close to two months of twice-weekly meetings, things came to a sudden halt. I’d worked Regan up into such a frenzy that the poor girl was drenched with sweat by the time I was done. She begged mercy and I relented. She hopped up to take a quick shower and I stayed in the bed to await her return, pushing myself back against the headboard as I tried to choreograph my next assault. I was more inventive and experimental with Regan than I’d ever been before. Something about being the only one doing any work freed me up to be creative. 

I was considering when I would reveal the strap-on I’d brought when a phone on the nightstand chimed. I leaned across the mattress and looked to see if it was mine, but Regan’s screen was lit. I swear I didn’t intend to look, but the words ‘tennis chick’ grabbed my eye. I looked at the bathroom door as I lifted her phone so I could get a better look at the message.

“Hey, gorgeous. Tennis chick left yet? I can’t wait to hear what you got up to this time. E.”

Ouch. Seriously, ouch. I put the phone back down and slipped to the edge of the mattress, placing my feet on the floor and trying to wrap my head around this revelation.

“Theresa?”

I looked over my shoulder. The bathroom door was open a crack, but Regan had spoken from the other side. “Yeah?”

“Have you ever thought about... you know, taking pictures?”

I closed my eyes. “Wouldn’t that be a little dangerous? What if your husband saw them?”

“He never looks on my phone. I’d love to have them just to... you know... look at when you’re not here. And you could take some of me for when you go home.”

“Sure. Sounds fun.” I stood up and quickly dressed. I was pissed off, both at her and myself. I grabbed my phone off the nightstand, looked around to make sure I wasn’t forgetting anything, and hurried out of the bedroom before the shower shut off. I tripped over something, saw what it was, and stuffed it into my pocket next to my phone. I didn’t want to even make a half-assed excuse for why I was running out. The next time I talked to Regan, if I ever saw her again, I wanted to tell her the truth. And I didn’t want to say anything until I had a chance to run over all the possibilities in my head.

I had just pulled out of the driveway when my phone chimed. I took it out of my pocket and eyed the screen. The message was “Where’d you go?” complete with a sad-face emoticon. I tossed the phone into the passenger seat and gripped the wheel with both hands, eyes on the road. I could deal with being someone’s mistress, sneaking around and breaking marriage vows. Child’s play. But if someone wanted to make me some kind of weird sexual plaything, they wouldn’t do it with my approval. I reached back into my pocket and took out the item I’d stolen from Regan’s bedroom.

The sock was tiny and green with a white pompom on the back. Bunny socks. I rubbed the cotton ball with my thumb and then tossed the sock onto the seat next to my phone.

Regan Cabot had been a nice fantasy, and a rare fantasy that I was actually able to enjoy in the flesh. But the time for fantasy had ended. I wasn’t going to put on a show for her and her husband. My time with Regan wasn’t tainted now that I knew the purpose behind it, but I’d be damned if I let it continue now that I knew the truth. I would move on to the next client, and I would take what I’d just walked away from as a life lesson to always stick to my rules. They existed to protect me from feeling this betrayed, humiliated, and hurt.

I would keep the sock to remind me before I gave in, before I surrendered to the next temptation. I looked at it at the next stoplight and smiled to myself. I’d thought Regan was drawn to me because I saw her as something more than just a pretty face. I was proud of myself for seeing her as a real person. But in the end, even to me, she had been reduced to little more than a trophy. I picked up the sock, tossed it in the glove compartment, and drove home.


End file.
